Page 69 of Disciplined by the Duke
He pressed deeply into her, her throbbing walls milking streams of hot cum from him. It felt like it would never end. He bit the tender spot where her neck joined her shoulder and gave one last hard thrust.
She moaned. “Marcus . . .” Slumping forward, her body sagged into his, her legs slipping from his hips. Grabbing her around the waist, Marcus slid to the floor, keeping her pinned to his lap, the last considered action he could make before his own body shut down.
They gasped for breath, chests heaving together as one. Liz knelt astride him, her head resting on his shoulder, her fingers entwined in his shirt’s cuffs. He rubbed one hand up and down her back, barely feeling her beneath his numb fingers. Everything was numb, from his toes to his eyeballs.
He smiled against the crown of her head. He was completely spent, but it wouldn’t take long to want her again. They were more than good together. “Magnificent” didn’t even cover it. He supposed when you loved someone bed sport was more than a mere joining of bodies.
He must be far gone. His heart didn’t even skip a beat at the word “love.” It was something he’d never expected to experience. It didn’t fit into his duties as duke. It was impractical. Improbable.
Liz snuggled deeper into his embrace.
It was right.
Chapter Twenty-One
“It will work!” Liz argued. She waved her hand, amber liquid sloshing over the side of the crystal glass she held. “I’ve created a good relationship with the guard. He’ll take the bribe not only because he needs the money, but because he has three granddaughters of his own. He wouldn’t want them in that horrible place. I can use that, appeal to his compassion.”
Marcus held up an ornate pair of shears. Its gilt-gold handles were studded with red, blue, and green stones. The scissors looked just as absurd now as they had when Liz had first seen them on a side table in Westmore’s study months ago. Who would use such a pair? As a tool, they were much too ornate; as an objet d’art, well, they were a stupid pair of shears.
But they’d made an easy object to hide in the folds of her skirt, slip into her satchel. A precautionary measure she’d taken three months earlier, knowing even then she might need money to aid in her sister’s escape. The earl had probably never even noticed them missing among the unbridled clutter of his rooms.
It had been the only object of value she’d taken from her room when Marcus had hustled her to his town house, and quick to catch his eye. When she’d told him who the shears belonged to, he’d raised one golden eyebrow and then pocketed the stolen goods, tucking her small bundle of clothes under one arm and ushering her to his coach with his other. Without time to think about the proprieties, she’d been neatly ensconced in his home, settled in front of a roaring fire in his salon, a glass of sherry in her hand.
Looking around the warm sage green room, she ran her hand over the golden brocade of the settee she rested upon. Her booted feet sank a full inch into the plush burgundy rug beneath her feet. She wasn’t going to complain about the step up in her living quarters.
She rubbed her forehead. Still, this latest turn of events had her confused. After what she’d done to Marcus, she didn’t see how she could fit into his life. She had tried to overhear what he had directed his footman to do with her package of clothing when he’d handed it off at the front door. Did he tell the man to take her belongings to the duke’s own rooms, a guest room, or the servants’ quarters?
“Liz?” His low rumble of a voice brought her to her senses. He waved the shears in front of her. “You hoped to use these to bribe the prison guard into releasing your sister?”
“Yes.” She furrowed her brow and peered at what she had assumed were precious jewels adorning the handle. “Why? Is it not valuable?” A low buzzing sounded in her ears. “That’s all I have to rescue Amanda. It has to be valuable.”
Marcus squatted before her and ran a hand up and down her thigh. “Yes, it’s worth quite a bit. More than a prison guard is ever likely to see. But that’s irrelevant. Do you seriously think I would let you use stolen goods to commit bribery?”
She placed her glass down on a side table with a decided clack. She stood, forcing Marcus to rise, as well. “What difference does one more crime make?” she asked bitterly.
He grasped her shoulders. “I sent a note to the Lord Chancellor. We’ll work it out through the system. If—”
“The system?” She couldn’t keep the derision from her voice. “The same system that offers no help to a girl abused by her father, but punishes her for protecting herself?”
His voice remained even. “If that doesn’t work, then I will resort to bribery. Using my own funds.”
She clutched at his forearms. “Marcus, I don’t think we can wait. You don’t know what it’s like in there. Amanda is hardly eating; she stopped talking. And it is so very cold.” Eyes burning, she turned her face aside to hide her weakness. “I need to get her out now. I don’t think we can wait until you exhaust the official channels.”
“All right.” He gathered her close, cupping her head to rest on his chest. The strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek eased the tension between her shoulders. “Give me the morning to make some more inquiries through the House of Lords. Then you’ll take me to meet this bribable prison guard, and I’ll examine the possible exits from the prison.” His words whispered over her brow. “We’ll get your sister out.”
She sank into him, arms wrapped snugly around his waist. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “Uh, if we do have to secure Mandy’s release through nonlegal means—”
“Prison break.”
“—then I’ll have to take my sister away somewhere the authorities can’t find her. I had been thinking about taking her to Italy.”
The muscles of his chest turned to stone. After a moment’s pause, he said, “We’ll worry about where to keep you sister safe later. For now, why don’t you get a couple hours’ rest while I make my inquiries?”
“All right.” She stilled in his arms. “Which room do I go to?” She tried to make the question sound light, as if the answer didn’t have the power to break her. If he sent her to a maid’s room it was better than she deserved. But she couldn’t be a servant who was tupped by her master. She wouldn’t settle for that sort of relationship.
He tipped her chin up. “Any time you lay your head down in my house, it will be in my bed.” A smile tugged at her lips as Marcus lowered his head to brush his mouth against hers. “Come on. I’ll show you the way.”
He led her up a flight of stairs. Her feet dragged, exhaustion settling in her limbs. It hit her like a wave, her body recognizing that she could now relax, that she no longer had to fight alone. Marcus would stand beside her.
